


Leon S. Kennedy is Dead

by GoblinCatKC



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Devil May Cry
Genre: Crossover, F/F, Horror, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 22:09:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5802061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoblinCatKC/pseuds/GoblinCatKC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Leon's first day on the job. Dante's just waiting on the zombified pizza boy. An outbreak of mutations and zombies bring Dante and Leon together. Again. Seems they have a rather intimate history.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dante lounged in his chair, boots up on his desk, drowsily watching his ceiling fan turn. Quiet nights were the best. The distant rumble of a car engine several blocks away, the breeze blowing gently past the window, even the flickering hum of his neon sign outside--the lonely street was peaceful when people weren't smashing his door in.

In a few minutes, he'd get up and kick the jukebox to listen to his favorite song for awhile. Fall asleep on the couch, maybe. No job meant no money, but a night off was worth it. Last night had been little spider devils flooding out of a kid's closet, the night before then was a fifty foot demonic eel in the sewers that had taken hours to find, and the whole week before that had been a horde of possessed dolls that had followed him home and kept popping up in the weirdest places. The lacy porcelain doll with the red eyes didn't think he'd spotted her yet on the ceiling fan, but she couldn't find a way down without smashing herself so he didn't bother shooting her yet.

A late night with no phone call was a nice change. If only the damn pizza guy would hurry up and get there, it'd be perfect.

The distant car engine was drowned under screeching brakes and a metallic crunch. Dante frowned. 

Several rapid pops followed. Gunshots.

Grimacing, Dante shut his eyes. No. They could have been firecrackers or a fuse blowing. Anything else. It was a pizza and beer night, dammit.

A moment passed, and then someone audibly stumbled into a trashcan. There were several more pops, and then the faint sound of footsteps running through the street.

No doubt about it. The footsteps were getting closer.

Grumbling to himself, Dante pushed out of his chair and stomped towards the door. He put his hand on his holster, snarling that it better just be the pizza guy getting mugged, and yanked the door open.

The pizza guy stood in front of him, holding the box in his gray hands. Two of his fingers were gone, ending in bloody stumps, and the side of his neck looked to be chewed down to the spine. The jaw hung slack, drooling blood onto the box. From the look of the sodden cardboard, he'd been standing there for awhile.

"Of course," Dante sighed.

His voice made the dead delivery man snap to attention, dropping the box as he lunged. Dante fired. The top of the corpse's head blew off, followed by his jaw, before the box hit the sidewalk. As the pizza zombie fell to its knees and collapsed sideways, Dante stepped over the body and looked around.

The street was as silent as always, which made the dozens of shambling corpses a little disconcerting. A handful of young men, their gang tattoos mangled by bite marks, a homeless woman missing her arm, a young girl dragging one leg locked in rigor mortis--they all turned toward him as if sensing he was alive, but none of them made more than muffled moans.

"Funny," Dante said to himself. "I was thinking of catching a zombie flick."

As slow as they were, there were so many to shoot that the crowd kept creeping closer. Dante began stepping back along the wall, staying out of their reach and stomping the occasional crawler that still had part of its head. The mutilated bodies reminded him of the grainy tv shots last year, people with broken necks and huge gaping wounds lurching at the camera--something about a city out east that Trish had tried to get him to watch on the news.

He paused from shooting, glancing down the street as more zombies came towards him. In the silence, he heard a body dragging itself along the pavement and their staggering footsteps. And someone running towards him.

"This one of those new movie highspeed zombies?" he wondered, turning around and raising his handguns.

In his sights, he saw someone familiar halt and sidestep his aim. Dante followed just as fast, but he didn't fire, watching the blonde man lean against the brick wall beside them, catching his breath. The hair obscured his face, but Dante didn't need to see him to know who he was. He remembered that irritated look anywhere.

"Hey, cuz'," he said with a smile. "First day on the job?"

Leon glared up at him, but he didn't argue. He dropped the clip from his Silver Ghost and put another magazine in, then stood straight and let Dante take out the nearest zombies.

"Didn't know you were in this town," Leon said. "How long've these things been out here?"

"I dunno," Dante shrugged, shooting another handful. "The pizza guy didn't knock."

Leon gave him a look, conserving his ammunition as he looked around. "It's only been a couple hours. It shouldn't have spread this fast."

"Hours since what?" Dante asked, and his irritation began to show. "And by the way, if your bosses nuke my town, you better have a guest room 'cause I'm not crashing on Trish's couch."

"My current boss is dead," Leon said, ignoring his comment. "And you're not rooming with me. You always had weird things in your bedroom, little goblins running through your closet stealing my toys."

Dante didn't mention the handful of possessed dolls hiding in the shop. "No boss, huh? So what're you doing here besides bringing your mess into a new town?"

"Didn't you hear the--"

Leon stopped. The sound was faint, but he knew the whisper of something big crawling on the cement. The creature chasing him had finally caught up. There was no way to tell where it was coming from, but as it grew louder, he moved away from the wall and stood back to back with Dante, raising his gun.

The red coat and the smell of leather swirled gently around him, and for a moment, Leon had a flashback of his cousin visiting him during summer. He hadn't known him well at all, wondering why his strange aunt had brought only Dante and not his twin Vergil. Dante had been a couple years older, a lanky teenager in the oversized red coat, and he'd seemed so much smarter and cooler as he sulked on the back porch.

Leon would never call him smart or cool now, but he did feel a twinge of envy that Dante never had to reload.

"Who's big and ugly?" Dante asked, looking up as he spotted the creature two blocks away, peering around the corner. "Someone you know?"

"Kind of," Leon said. "Used to be Governor Pesoli. My boss."

What used to be the governor rose up on her hind tentacles, two stories tall, slithering toward them like a squid with dozens of arms. Her three huge eyes rolled crazily in all directions, and hundreds of needle-like teeth filled her mouth. As she moved, she snatched up zombies and devoured them, shredding them to ribbons.

Leon fired a few rounds, but they made no impact. She didn't seem to notice one of her tentacles shot in half.

"Come on," Dante said, nodding toward the roof. "This'll be more fun from up there."

Following his look, Leon noticed the lack of any way up short of a superhuman leap.

"Dante," he said. "I can't fly."

"Sure you can," Dante smiled. "You're with me."

Before Leon could argue, Dante put one arm around his waist and yanked him securely against his side, then ran up the side of the wall just as one of the tentacles smashed into the bricks below them. The impact jarred Leon's teeth and pieces of broken stone flew by, and the street flipped wrongside up as Dante somersaulted to the next building. The force of the jump nearly made Leon black out.

Leon tightened his grip on his gun. His stomach felt like it was twisting around and he hoped he didn't throw up on his cousin.

Landing on the concrete roof was a relief. He stumbled a step, then shook his head clear and aimed at the creature gathering her tentacles beneath her. Her eyes were as large as a theater screen, looming over him as the former governor rose up on all her tentacles, but Leon burst the middle eye with one shot. He froze in surprise as white viscous fluid exploded in all directions, then recovered himself and took aim at the other eyes.

As she reared back, there was a red blur and a glint of steel and Leon caught a glimpse of Dante driving his sword to the hilt in the monster's head. Blood and black ichor sprayed from the wound, splashing the street as the monster's head started to swell and wobble like rubber.

"Dante!" Leon yelled, recognizing the symptoms. "It's gonna explode! Get out of--"

The head shot apart with enough force to knock him on his back. He saw stars for a moment before he realized that he'd hit his head on the concrete, and he blinked until the flashing lights went away.

Wet glops of meat and chunks of still twitching muscle lay everywhere--hanging from the power lines, stuck to the walls and slowly sliding to the ground. He heard the tentacles slapping the pavement in death throes and the bile still flowing out of the body.

"Thanks for the warning."

Leon glanced to his right. His cousin's boots glistened with blood as Dante stood over him with the confident grin Leon had learned to hate. Blood dripped off the red coat as Dante bent, hand extended.

"You all right?"

Drawing a long breath, Leon took his hand and let Dante help him to his feet. The motion made him light headed, but Dante kept a grip on his hand and put his other on Leon's shoulder, holding him steady.

For a moment, Leon was back in the past--years after their first meeting, when one of Dante's jobs spilled into Washington D.C., and both of them had to mop up the creeping dead. Dante was a cocky kid with sadder eyes, Leon had learned to jump at his shadow, and both of them had learned that even when you win the fight, you can lose something vital.

Leon never asked what happened to the twin he never met. It wasn't his to ask, even when they'd dropped most of their guard and lay vulnerable in bed beside each other. And Dante never offered to tell.

"I'm good," Leon said, standing straight. "To be honest, I kind of expected something like this."

Dante laughed once. "You mean it really was your first day?"

Shaking off the bits of gore stuck to himself, Leon nodded ruefully. "Political rally for the governor. Didn't think it'd turn into Night of the Living Calamari. Don't suppose you have any ammo on you?"

"Never needed it," Dante said unapologetically. "But there's some back at my place. And then you can fill me in on all'a this."

"You sure you wanna get involved?" Leon said, holstering his gun. "Be a shame if something happened to that nice coat of yours."

The old taunt made Dante smile. There'd been a time when he hated the thought of even scratching his coat, and he'd barked at the much younger Leon if he got too close. And then had come the day when Dante ripped off its sleeve without thinking about it because there were more important things in the world.

"Not as worried about it as I used to be," he said. "Besides, I gotta take care of the family I got left, right?"

Leon didn't answer as he let Dante hold him again. His cousin's nauseating acrobatics almost took his mind off of what should've been a flippant comment, but Dante wasn't the only one without any other kin left. It wasn't something Leon liked to think about.

Humans weren't meant to jump around like a devil could, and Leon groaned and tightened his grip on Dante's coat. Upside down, spinning cartwheels several stories above the road--Dante turned and used a streetlight as a springboard, and Leon clung as if he was on a roller coaster that had no safety bar.

They landed too fast on the sidewalk. The sudden stop made would have thrown Leon to the ground if Dante didn't still have his arm around him. Instead, Leon's headache burst into excruciating pain. Lights flashed around him, the air turned into lead and his head felt like it would collapse in on itself.

"Whoa, looks like you did slam your head into the concrete," Dante said, steadying him against himself. "Just stay on your feet for a couple minutes, okay? I gotta clear a path to the door."

Leon couldn't nod, but he held himself straight by holding onto Dante's coat, muffling the roaring growls and footsteps by burying his face against Dante's chest. His cousin helped by occasionally covering his exposed ear so that the gunshots didn't make him scream.

"They busted the hinges," Dante muttered, kicking his front door closed and throwing the bolt. The small piece of metal barely kept the door from falling off. "Probably a couple inside. I'll clean 'em out in a minute."

"...head shots?" Leon mumbled. "They get back up if you don't..."

"I've seen the movies," Dante said. "Everyone knows how to kill a zombie."

A few more dizzy steps, and then Leon felt a couch against his shins. He collapsed on the worn surface, not noticing the exposed bits of stuffing or the stains hardened into the upholstery. Dante moved out of sight, presumably making sure there were no more shambling dead, leaving Leon to watch the fan slowly turning above him.

The fan with a porcelain doll doing her best to glare menacingly at him, but her desperate grip on the fan so she wouldn't fall off ruined the effect.

Leon blinked, then shut his eyes and turned on his side.

"Dante," he moaned, sure that his cousin could hear him through the cushions. "Your possessed doll is staring at me."

"She can't get you," Dante said, and there was the sound of a sword slicing rotted flesh. "She's too afraid of breaking."

"Oh God..." Leon grumbled. He pulled the cushion over his head to block out the light. "I forgot what your place is always like. In Dante's room, dolls play with you."

"'Least it isn't a marionette," Dante called from somewhere upstairs.

Leon didn't reply. He didn't want to know.

Once the last zombie was decapitated and another possessed doll dismembered, Dante went downstairs and paused on the last step, watching Leon rest. Just looking at him, Leon seemed like he'd been modeled after Dante. He had the same build, the same height, and for a human, he was a deadly fighter.

For a human.

For a devil, he would be amusing prey for a minute or two. Leon wouldn't survive if he was run through with a knife, let alone a sword. Dante shrugged off bullets that would have killed or mangled his cousin. He'd seen the bloody mess of shredded humans left behind after hellbeasts cut through a city. And yet Leon regularly went into that meat grinder, killing mutated monsters and armies of the undead, and he did it knowing that one day he wouldn't duck or shoot fast enough.

Sometimes Dante wondered how Leon was so flippant about danger when he came close to death every day.

He sat down on the edge of the couch, lightly touching Leon's hair. Dried blood and sweat matted parts of it down, and Dante swept it back from Leon's eyes.

"How do you see anything through that?" Dante murmured.

"You've got no room to talk," Leon said, attempting a smile and failing. "I take it devils don't keep aspirin around?"

"Sure do," Dante said. He took the from his coat pocket and popped off the top, shaking out two pills. "Devil blood's no proof against hangovers. Sit up, will ya?"

Groaning in protest, Leon closed his eyes and shifted, rising up on his elbows. He felt Dante's fingertips lightly touch his lips, and he opened his mouth to accept two little pills. A half-empty bottle of cheap beer was offered next.

"Sorry," Dante said, "ain't got any water for it."

"It's fine," Leon said, taking a hesitant swig. "S'long as it's not too strong."

"Just Tiger brew," Dante assured him. "You'd need more than a mouthful to get drunk off it."

Dante took back the bottle and set it on the floor. As Leon lay back on the couch, he started to put his left arm over his eyes only to flinch and wince as he gently set it back down. Instead he put his right arm over his eyes and relaxed.

"That the one you got shot in?" Dante asked. "Still hurts?'

"Just sometimes," Leon said. "After fighting big tentacle monsters and zombies and losing my job. At least I think I lost it. Does it count if your boss dies?"

Half-smiling, Dante brought his hand to his mouth and pierced his finger. A large drop of blood welled up on his skin, and leaned over Leon and put the blood to his lips.

Instantly Leon bit down to hold it in place, drawing hard for what little blood trickled out. Dante waited, enjoying the way Leon licked. After a few drops, Dante tugged his hand free, chuckling when Leon grumbled.

"Too much is bad for you," Dante reminded him.

"I never minded before," Leon said, and he stretched, turning his left arm. "Oh, that's better. Much better. In fact, I think I might go see if I can get my paycheck from the office."

"Whoa," Dante said, putting his hands on Leon's shoulders and pushing him back down. "The blood just makes it feel better. You're still hurt. I know you humans are pretty durable, but you can't see how pale you look."

"Just tired," Leon argued, but he lay down despite himself. "I've fought on worse injuries. When there's three monsters, just shoot at the blurry one in the middle, that's all."

"Lie still," Dante ordered. "Get some sleep. You can fill me in on everything later when you're not acting punchdrunk."

Leon snorted.

"Like you've ever been punchdrunk," he mumbled, drowsing as his voice dwindled. "You just stand there and eat bullets..."

"Never more than twice," Dante said.

"Tch." Leon peeked from under his forearm. "Hey, Dante? You won't go anywhere, right?"

Dante smiled. "No way. You're the one who knows what's going on, so you have to tell me when you wake up."

"You could watch the news, you know," Leon whispered.

"Now why would I waste a good evening on that?" Dante said.

He idly stroked Leon's hair, waiting until his breath turned deep and even. Dante wondered how he could sleep with the blood drying on his skin. Didn't that itch? Or had his cousin turned into one of those soldiers that slept anywhere under any circumstance?

He sat and listened to the quiet shuffling of zombies outside and the troubled, muted chittering of a very frustrated doll on his ceiling fan. He'd let her live for awhile longer. He didn't want to shoot and wake up Leon. Instead he grabbed the beer and sat in his chair, boots up on his desk. His guns and sword were in easy reach as he watched the door, yawning as he stood guard.


	2. Chapter 2

Two female voices failing at being quiet roused Leon out of sleep. Sore, wincing in the weak light, Leon groaned and sat up, putting his feet on the floor. He leaned forward and put his head in his hands, waiting for the sleep to work its way out. He knew better than to ask for coffee. All Dante ever had was beer.

He felt a surge of panic--his guns and the holsters were gone. He looked up and spotted them on Dante's desk. How had his cousin slipped them off without Leon's noticing? Leon grumbled and put his head back in his hands. He didn't think Dante meant anything by it except to help him sleep comfortably, but how would Dante like it if Leon took his sword while he was asleep?

"Hey, he's awake. Hard to tell--he didn't snore once."

"And in one piece, it looks like. He'll be cute when that blood's out of his hair."

Leon looked between his fingers, then startled back when he found two women staring closely at him.

Neither carried any weapons, but they both carried themselves in a way he knew too well. Confident stride, wary look, hands open as they waited to see if he was a threat.

"Cute enough already," the blonde said. "Hey Dante, his hair's a little like yours."

"It's a family tradition," Dante said. "Long blinding bangs in our eyes make it easier to aim."

"'Family'?" the blonde echoed, frowning at Dante. "I thought you were on your own."

Dante half shrugged. "Cousin from mom's side. We meet on and off."

The look she gave him was suspicious, but she didn't argue. Leon didn't feel any better that she didn't pry. She didn't look like the type to give up easily, and she might have a better chance weaseling it out of him than a half-devil.

"So you're Leon?" the brunette said, staring at him. "Kennedy, right? I read your report on Los Illuminados in Spain."

"Not Spain," Leon clarified. "But I thought that report was still classified."

She smiled. "I'm sure it is."

Leon frowned. "What? But--"

"Don't tease him," Dante said, coming to his rescue. "He's had a rough night. Leon, this is Lady and Trish. Trish is my sidekick. Lady's my loan shark."

"Ah." Leon couldn't help taking another look at the shop. No wonder everything looked so worn. "Still have that devil's luck at gambling?"

"Ha ha," Dante said dryly.

"So where are these things coming from?" Trish broke in, sitting on Dante's desk. "There's still hardly any information on what happened. The news has nothing. Even Dante's all up to date."

"Big boom, monsters and monster slaying," Dante said, shrugging one shoulder. "What else do I need to know?"

Trish grumbled under her breath. "Honestly..."

Quietly smiling, Leon leaned back on the couch and pressed his hand to his head. The headache was coming back, but not nearly as strong as before. The pain was just enough to be a nuisance.

"The governor hired me as a bodyguard," Leon said. "I didn't get a chance to really check any threats out, but she didn't seem scared of anyone."

"Did she have any enemies?" Lady asked.

Leon shook his head once. "Nothing I could tell. She only recently got elected, so I think she was hiring bodyguards as a precaution. They all have bodyguards up there now."

Lady nodded. "Ever since they got the president's daughter back and found out about the Illuminados plot."

Huffing, Leon glared at her. "Are my files in the public library or something?"

"Considering the security I ran into," Lady smiled shamelessly, "they might as well be. Really, you expected good work from the government?"

"They seemed to do blackmail pretty good," he said softer.

Dante narrowed his eyes at that, but he didn't ask, instead exchanging a quick glance with Trish. She met his eyes and nodded once. She'd caught Leon's slip, too. He'd have to ask his cousin later, though. They didn't have time now, and besides, it sounded like something too personal to talk about in a group.

"The only way to find out anything is to go back," Leon said, not noticing their look. "There might be a clue left behind at the rally."

"Good idea," Lady said, "but that part of town is blocked off. There are cops and agents everywhere. It'll be a pain to get in there undetected."

Leon shook his head once, clearing away the last bits of sleep, and stood up. The headache was still there, but Dante's blood made it manageable.

"We'll be able to walk through just fine. Those cops and agents are probably long gone by now."

"How do you know?" Lady asked.

"I've done this a few times," he said. "Trust me. I bet we walk right up the front steps."

Lady groaned. "Great. He's almost as cocky as Dante."

Leon frowned, but Dante cut him off before he could say anything, rising out of his chair and sweeping Leon's holsters off his desk.

"That's 'cause he's almost as good as me." He grinned and handed over the belt. "Here, Lady had some spare ammo, but between the two of you, you're gonna run out pretty fast."

Leon slung on his guns, snapping the belt on firmly. The added weight of a full load of ammo gave him what he knew was a false sense of reassurance. So what if he had a few rounds and his knife? It would take more than that to get through streets full of zombies and tentacled monsters.

Then again, he saw the rocket launcher Lady was slinging over her shoulder. Trish didn't seem to carry much beyond a shotgun, but as she spoke with Lady, they seemed confident that they didn't need anything else.

"You sure you wanna come?" Dante asked in a low voice, standing close to Leon. "All you got are those handguns. This won't be easy."

Leon heard the unspoken truth. This wouldn't be easy even for devils. He was just a normal human. Dante probably thought he was weak, fragile even.

His jaw tightened. He knew he couldn't do the fancy jumps and leaps his cousin did, but he'd killed his own share of monsters, too, and he didn't need devil blood to do it again.

"Don't worry about me," Leon said. "This is practically my dayjob now."

"Oh?" Dante leaned close, whispering in his ear. "And what do you do at night?"

For a second, Leon's breath caught in his chest. It had been years since he heard that tone in his cousin's voice, but to hear it again was as if no time had passed between.

"Nothing interesting," he said tightly.

"I could change that," Dante offered. "When we're done with all this."

Leon shot a look at the others to make sure they hadn't heard, then glared at his cousin.

"You know, I do know that we're related now."

"More by marriage than anything else," Dante said, lightly touching Leon's arm. "You can't fool me. I know you remember. I always left you satisfied."

Stepping away, Leon drew back toward the window and looked out, scanning the street while he deliberately ignored Dante.

"It looks clear right now. I don't think the infection's spread across the whole city yet."

Lady joined him at the window. "How can you tell?"

"You can hear a city full of zombies. That's one thing they never talk mention on the news. The groaning, the screams, breaking glass..." He shook his head and forced the memories out of his head. "That's why it'll be easy getting to the governor's manor. The cops are busy cleaning up the dead. So we're going?"

"We'll take the bikes," Trish said, dangling the keys from her finger. "It'll be faster. Lady, you're with me."

"Can I drive?" Lady asked her. "I'd like to get there in one piece."

"And I wanna get there sometime this year," Trish said. "You won't fall off if you hang on tight."

"That leaves Leon with me," Dante said, and he clapped his hand on Leon's shoulder. "Unless you wanna walk?"

Tempted to say walking was fine, Leon sighed and nodded. To his surprise, the motorcycles were wheeled out of the sideroom. He told himself he shouldn't be surprised--in this neighborhood, anything not nailed down would be stolen. Dante sat down first and started the engine, hitting the kickstand and balancing the bike.

"Hop on," Dante said. "And hold onto me. I don't use helmets and you already took one knock on the head."

Wondering if Dante did the same acrobatics with the bike, Leon felt nervous as he sat down behind him. The motorcycle felt wild, revving so hard that he felt the hum in his bones. It was different from anything he'd ever ridden before. Was the bike half-demonic, too? He put his arms around Dante, pressing against his back. The red coat smelled of sweat, alcohol and something that was almost blood.

Devil's blood, Leon realized. Not sweet, not spicy, but more like burning wood and smoke.

"So you do bleed after all," he murmured.

"More than you know," Dante said. "I chose this color 'cause it hides it better."

What had Dante fought that actually drew blood? Leon would have asked, but then Dante opened the throttle and the bike howled under them. He heard his cousin yell something about the door being broken already, and then he had to hold on as they drove through the door, smashing it to pieces as they raced out, banked a hard right turn and sped down the street.

The buildings blurred with the glow of the streetlamps. Leon shut his eyes when it became overwhelming, slowly peeking through his lashes until he could stand the speed. The dead zombies had melted and left behind a toxic sludge that the wheels sometimes spun on, but Dante kept control of the bike and led them past smashed cars and broken storefronts.

"Lean left," Dante called back.

Leon's grip dug into Dante as the bike went almost to the pavement as they turned, dodging the debris from a gas station that had exploded. If they tumbled, Dante would walk away without a scratch, but Leon's heart raced and he held his breath. It would have been a lot more tolerable if he was driving.

"Trust me," Dante said when they were riding upright again. "I won't get you killed."

"Very reassuring," Leon muttered, but he loosened his grip again.

"Hey, not that you have to let go," Dante said, and Leon could hear the cocky grin on his face. "Kind of nice having you hang on that tight. Haven't felt that since you ran away to be a cop."

Raccoon City was not a pleasant memory, but the night before he reported in on his first day--he still smiled despite himself. He'd wanted a wild blow out before he became an upright member of the police force, and Dante had provided. Beer, a strip joint, more beers, screaming down the road on a stolen bike, hazy memories of beating up a whole bar, and the feeling of invincibility as he fought side by side with someone who could block a chair with his arm, who had blood that cured a hangover. At the end of the night, they'd fallen into bed with each other and laughed about it until they passed out.

And then Leon had rushed late to his first day on the job.

He pushed the memory out of his head. There were other things to worry about.

Dante slowed down as they neared the park. The streetlights showed the carnage around them. Bodies littered the grass, a few of which were still walking aimlessly or crawling along the ground, gnawing on the dead. Blood coated the trees and sidewalk, and everything else was charred from the initial explosion. The wooden park benches crumbled as the bike rumbled by, and the picturesque cherry trees lay in heaps of broken branches. The blue banners of the celebration victory had been shredded and scorched and lay smoking on the cracked cement.

"Hell of a party," Dante murmured as they rode, coming to a stop at the steps of the governor's mansion.

"It was a close race," Leon said softly. "She didn't expect to win."

Lady, who'd heard them as Trish rolled up next to them, shook her head. "Can't feel too sorry for a politician."

As he idly put a round into a dead businessman lurching at him, Dante kicked down the bikestand and stood, drawing his sword. He looked unimpressed at the destruction, more accustomed to hell towers and destroyed cities. If he didn't have to destroy a god, he counted it an easy fight.

"Inside?" he asked Leon.

"Sure looks like the blast came from there," Leon said, nodding at the blown out windows and the wide doors hanging haphazardly from their frames.

Leon drew his own Silver Ghost and started walking, staying ahead of Dante before the half devil could step in front of him. He ignored Dante's low grumble and Trish's barely discernible chuckle. He didn't want Dante walking in, waving his sword and talking loud enough to attract zombies, or Lady stomping in and firing her rocket launcher--not before he had a chance to look around the main hall for clues.

The mansion was nothing like he'd seen before the explosion. Whatever had caused the blast was gone, reduced to dust covering the marble floor and walls. The chandelier lay smashed under a pile of wood beams and masonry, and the grand staircase had caved in.

Dante whistled, twirling his sword once to loosen his wrist. "Fancy digs. So this is where my taxes go?"

"You haven't paid taxes ever," Trish snorted. "I've seen your bookkeeping."

Leon ignored them. Was that the shuffle of aimless footsteps behind the rubble? Probably. Dozens of aides, reporters, and guests had been invited to the party, and the cream of the city's social and business elite had been in attendance as well. Some of their corpses were likely still walking around.

"What's that growing there?" Lady asked, pointing at the cracked walls under the windows.

At first it looked like something had spilled across the plaster and wood, but Leon took a step back when he recognized them. The dark green leaves were already unfurling from the spores splashed thickly around the floor, with yellow-orange buds developing on the tiny, fragile stems. A faint sickly sweet scent wafted through the air.

"Shit, sonnentreppe," Leon muttered, putting his empty hand over his mouth. "Are the spores still floating in the air?"

Dante and Trish both scanned the room, seeing with eyes keener than his own, but both of them shook their heads.

"What is it?" Trish asked, kneeling next to the flower. Trusting Leon's reaction, she didn't touch it or lean too close. "Do they always grow this fast?"

"Umbrella used sonnetreppe to create the Progenitor virus," Leon explained. "And I'll bet anything those flowers are genetically mutated. They shouldn't be here."

"Look at this!" Lady called out, waving them over to the back of the staircase. She held her guns at the ready, visibly holding herself back from shooting despite her disgust.

The zombie trapped behind the broken staircase was covered in green shoots. Judging from the amount of spores and stems sprouting from his body, Leon guessed that this man had been caught in the initial blast, probably had set it off himself. He grimaced as the dead man snarled at them, revealing tiny flowers budding in his mouth.

"Yuck." Ignoring Leon's yell, Dante raised his gun and shot off the zombie's head.

It exploded in a shower of green spores that flew right towards them.

"Get down!" Trish cried out, tackling Lady and covering her with her body.

Moving so fast that he was a red blur, Dante turned and grabbed Leon, yanking him away from the descending spores. Leon saw them suspended in the air for an instant, and then all the breath was knocked out of him as Dante carried him backwards, using his coat as a cover. When they landed, Dante knelt with Leon braced in his arms.

Coughing from the impact to his chest, Leon groaned and glared up at Dante. "Great shot, Annie Oakley. What do you do for an encore?"

He knew he'd made a tactical error when Dante grinned.

"This," Dante said, and kissed him.

Leon tried to keep his mouth closed, but he remembered those lips---memories of clumsy fumbling and pawing, of exploring and being explored by the older boy who'd seemed so cool sulking on his porch, smoking a hidden cigarette and wearing a heavy coat in the summer while their mothers talked. The devil may care who'd helped him smash through an entire bar fight the day before Raccoon city, kissing him just before dragging him onto his bike for a wild ride on the dark country roads.

It was still a little clumsy and full of the ridiculousness of childhood--Dante had never learned to kiss right and Leon hadn't practiced much.

"Checking for spores?"

Dante looked up and Leon's head fell back, giving him an upside down view of Lady as she ignored Trish patting down her clothes, picking off lint to make sure it wasn't a spore. Lady raised an eyebrow.

"Just wanted to be thorough," Dante said.

"Well, while you're wasting time," Lady said, "that little stunt just got us a lot more trouble. Look."

Leon squirmed, but only when Dante had set him on his feet was he able to see. The spores had latched onto the walls and ceiling, spreading in darkly green veins across every surface.

"The more there are," Leon breathed, "the faster they grow."

One of the shoots on the wall sprouted a bud that opened, releasing a green puff. As more shoots appeared with forming buds, they realized their danger and ran for the entrance.

They stopped short after only a few steps. The shoots along the floor had already raced up the frame and created a lattice of leaves and tiny flowers. Dante grabbed Leon and forced his face against his chest, covering him with part of his coat as he shot the net of sonnetreppe, but the more holes he punched, the more green flecks burst out of the plant.

"It's just getting worse," Trish yelled. "Up and out!"

"Stupid, trigger-happy devils," Lady muttered as she leaped up to the broken staircase, catching the railing and swinging up onto the steps.

Trish followed with a straightforward jump, landing easily on the next floor, and then Dante turned to Leon.

"I can make that," Leon started, backing away.

"No time to argue," Dante said even as he scooped Leon up and threw him over his shoulder.

Leon winced at the collarbone digging into his ribs, pressing worse when Dante jumped and landed. As they started down the hallway, Leon groaned when he realized that Dante had no intention of putting him down. He tried to knee him, but Dante didn't seem to feel it.

The light from the setting sun made the halls red, turning the green veins black as they slithered towards them. As fast as Trish and Dante ran, the plant spread faster.

"We'll go through a window!" Dante yelled.

"No good," Trish yelled back. "It's spreading outside on the surface, too."

"Shit," Leon said, grimacing as he tried to lift himself off of Dante's shoulder. "This was the real attack, not the bomb blast. This plant is the real weapon."

"And we walked right into it," Dante said. 

"We can't let anyone blunder close to this place," Leon said. "Not even zombies. They'll turn into walking vectors."

"On it," Trish said, already gathering Lady up and heading to an open balcony window. "We'll keep everyone clear. You two get outta here soon!"

"Oh sure, you take the easy job," Dante called after her. He came to a sudden halt, jarring Leon. "Crap. More of 'em."

"Flowers?" Leon asked, putting himself up so he could see over his shoulder. Two undead interns came around the corner, between them and the women. "Oh, more zombies. Just don't--"

The two zombies' heads exploded in a fresh rain of spores, forcing Dante to detour left up a narrow staircase. Leon scowled and held his breath until they were clear of the debris, then pounded once on Dante's back. As before, Dante didn't act as if he'd felt it.

"Dammit, quit shooting the heads!" Leon snapped. "This isn't a movie, moron--hit them in the knees and then pop their chests as they go down!"

"Look," Dante grumbled, "every Italian flick I've seen says to shoot their faces off. And besides, I'm the devil here--been through hell and back, so I know what I'm doing, okay?"

"Not okay!" Leon pushed against Dante, snarling in frustration at how strong his cousin was. "Put me down!"

"Geez, fine," Dante said, and he let Leon slide down onto his feet. "Sheesh, don't get all hysterical about it."

Sorely tempted to shoot Dante, Leon held his gun at the ready and ran down the hall. Surprised that Leon wasn't going to argue more, Dante sprinted a few feet to catch up and then ran at his shoulder.

"You know where you're going?" Dante asked.

"As a matter of fact--"

Leon paused for a second as two more zombies, both covered in green roots and budding stems, broke through a door ahead of them. As they lurched forward, Leon aimed and shot each one in a knee, then added three rounds to the first one's chest until it groaned and fell to the carpet, no longer moving. He reloaded to finish off the second one, and then stepped over them. No spores had exploded out.

"Wait," Dante said, glancing at the bodies as they passed. "How'd you do that? They go up like fireworks when I hit them."

"The plagas virus seems to affect the heads most," Leon explained, shooting a third zombie and then kicking one back into the closet. "So avoid the head. And any big extra eyeballs."

"Extra eyeballs?" Dante echoed. "I thought these were just zombies. Are they devils, too?"

"Sometimes I wonder," Leon said. "After everything it takes to kill some of the big ones. Almost got eaten by one that could've swallowed a subway."

"I get the feeling you're not talking about a sandwich," Dante said.

"I was almost the sandwich," Leon said. "But we finally killed it. Well, I saw it deflate. I guess it could've just mutated again, but I'm pretty sure the nuclear strike finished it off."

"Nuclear strike," Dante said. "Great. Any chance they'll nuke this city?"

"Not if we stop it before it spreads," Leon said.

Dante looked at the window beside them and watched the green veins covering it up like curtains. "Not much hope of that now."

"I've seen worse," Leon said. "Let's head further inside, away from the walls. It'll probably take awhile for the sonnentreppe to work all the way in."

Dante followed, rankled at having to let Leon do the shooting, but the one time he beat Leon to a zombie, his cousin gave him a look that rivaled Lady on a bad day. He hoped the girls were doing better than he was. 

"Where are you going?" Dante said. "'Cause I'm assuming you know where everything is in here."

"The floors being blown out kind of makes it harder," Leon said, stepping over a large gap that showed the greenery turning leafy and blooming on the floor below. "But yeah, we're going to the panic room. There might be survivors."

"From this?" Dante shook his head. "I don't think anyone had time."

"Gotta try."

Dante sighed, but he didn't argue. He watched in fascination, free to stare now that Leon wasn't watching him. The mutant flowers and zombies didn't unnerve Dante, and he also didn't see anything except taut awareness from his cousin. No jerky movements, no shaky breathing, nothing that humans did when they were scared.

Not that Leon wasn't afraid. Dante easily caught the scent of fear on his cousin, like rain on a hot sidewalk, but there was none of the panic that he often saw on humans. Leon was steady, focused, and his heart beat only a little faster.

His cousin was used to this and worse. Dante wondered how humans could be so vulnerable and so brave at the same time. Leon had nothing more than his handgun between him and an enemy that wouldn't even do him the courtesy of killing him before using his corpse.

Sometimes Dante wondered how he would react if he wasn't a devil, and son of the greatest devil at that. If he couldn't leap headlong down twenty stories, ride a missile or transform with wings, would he be as fearless and brash as he was now? He imagined that he would. Leon took on armies of the undead with a quip and a prayer. Dante thought that he could do the same. But he would always be left guessing the true extent of his courage, and he occasionally felt a twinge of doubt.

Dante shot off the legs of a zombie coming up behind Leon. As it fell, Leon turned and put another round through its chest, backing away from the tiny plume of spores released. Dante jogged after him, following him into a much larger room with a giant desk and heavy drapes. This was the main office, Dante figured, and he spotted the thick metal door of the panic room bent in half as if something powerful had kicked it.

"Wait here," Dante said, moving in front of Leon. To his relief, his cousin didn't try to step around him, instead watching their backs as Dante peered into the room.

Dante grimaced. Whatever the flowers were, they had exploded here first. Several bodies lay askew with vines twisted through them, holding their twitching limbs securely rooted into the wood. Their jaws worked automatically, chewing the leaves and shoots inside their mouths to a green pulp, but the plants here only had enough spores to fill the panic room. When the rest of greenery reached here, the office would teem with flowers spewing poison.

"Sorry, Leon," Dante said, backing away. "Nothing worth saving in there."

Leon sighed and leaned against the desk, lowering his gun for a moment. "Damn."

The antique brass phone on the desk rang. Dante answered it out of habit.

"Hello?" Dante listened for a moment, then grinned and touched the speaker button out of place on the antique facade. "It's for you."

"Leon?" Hunnigan sounded annoyed, moreso than usual. Usually he heard her over his communications link. On the speaker phone, her voice sounded thin and hollow. "Who's that with you?"

"Just a survivor," Leon lied to his handler. "He's still in shock, that's why he doesn't sound pani--"

"Doesn't matter," she cut him off. "Where were you? You went off the grid for five hours."

"I had to kill the governor," Leon said, turning toward the phone as if he was standing before her, being debriefed on the mission. "She turned into a huge squid thing and started tearing apart the city. We've got two major contaminations going--"

"I know what's happening," she said. "What I don't know is where you were. The conditions of your work for us are clear. You stay on the grid."

"I was thrown from the blast and woke up later," Leon said. "The fall crushed my earpiece. And I've still got the concussion ringing in my ears, if you're interested in keeping me alive. I'd like to know my brain isn't swelling out of my ears."

"No danger of that," she said in a clipped voice. "It's got plenty of room in there. Did you just wake up?"

"No," Leon answered. "I saw the governor transform so I chased after her. Once she was dead, I passed out again. I only woke up about an hour ago."

Although he didn't say anything, Dante frowned. Lies couched in the truth so well that any devil would've been proud. Dante didn't know how humans usually related to their bosses, but even as a rookie cop, Leon had been a perfect boy scout. Why the deftness with lying now?

Hunnigan paused for several long seconds, and Leon wondered if the vines had compromised the phone line. He forced himself not to look at Dante. He couldn't let himself rely on Dante's strength when it annoyed him otherwise. Besides, he didn't dare drag Dante into this.

"Stay in contact," Hunnigan warned. "Your trustworthiness was always shaky, but now it's compromised. You know what that could mean."

"Don't you dare!" Leon said, his shock overriding him for a moment. "I've done everything you wanted--it's not my fault I got knocked out--"

"It's your fault you didn't call me," she cut him off. "Here're your orders. Kill that mutant flower growing inside the governor's manor or contain it until we can do it for you. Report back every hour and with every major development. And Leon?"

"What?" he snapped.

"More than one life depends on your reliability," she said. "Remember that."

The phone clicked off, and Leon was left staring at the phone. Dante tilted his head.

"Anything I should know about?"

Leon didn't answer. Taking a deep breath, he let it out shakily and leaned against the desk. The tension in his body didn't leave, but he regained control, enough to shake his head.

"It's nothing," he said. He looked around at the wrecked office, listening to the building creak and moan as the plant roots invaded its foundations. The lights flickered as the electrical system shorted in and out. "We need to burn this place down."

Since he wasn't going to get an answer now, Dante shrugged. "Easy enough. But don't fight me when I pick you up. We'll have to leave fast and I don't wanna drop you before we get out."

Leon nodded, holstering his gun, and stepped back as Dante breathed deep. With a yell that startled him, Dante rose into the air as arcane spells flew around him in a flash of light, and Leon shielded his eyes as the glare became overpowering.

When the spell was over, Leon froze.

The force of Dante's mere presence could have sent him through the wall. Leon stiffened as Dante turned his head to face him. Smoldering eyes regarded him. His cousin had dropped the mask of humanity and appeared as a true devil, covered in armor and spreading two wings behind him.

As Leon stared, the wings flexed once, then relaxed. Leon couldn't help himself. He holstered his gun and walked closer, reaching out to touch one. Remembering himself, he glanced at Dante, who nodded his permission. Leon looked back at the wings and lightly drew his fingers down the edge, surprised by how smooth they were. When he lay his hand on one, it twitched reflexively.

"Are they sensitive?" Leon asked.

"Not really," Dante said. "I don't let people touch 'em often, that's all."

Leon smiled. Under the fearsome eyes and face, Dante's voice was the same. His power was just more obvious now. He looked at Dante and found the strange face reassuring, like proof that his cousin could handle terrible demons and armies of zombies while laughing.

"I'll let you look under the coat if you want," Dante offered. "But I insist on dinner and a movie first."

And just like that, Leon's bad humor returned. He wondered if he could shoot Dante in leiu of a punch.

Creaking wood and cracking glass drew his attention down the hall. The vines and roots were creeping towards them, slowly threading through the walls and along the carpet. Fresh buds and shoots unfurled and released tiny puffs of spores.

Leon frowned. Something was wrong. The wood wasn't just groaning--there was some kind of steady, rhythmic beat with it. The floor started to shake, cracking along the plant's vines as something came closer. He drew his gun again and aimed, and beside him, Dante aimed as well.

"What do you think it is?" Dante asked.

"Probably whatever smashed the panic room door."

Dante glanced at the door again--metal several inches thick caved in like paper--and looked back at Leon, wondering if his cousin's spine was made out of the same steel as his gun. He suppressed the urge to step in front of him. Leon would never forgive him, but humans broke so easily. Dante couldn't forgive himself if Leon was hurt badly.

It came into view slowly. Leon grimaced. What little they could see between the blooming flowers was the grey skin of a zombie, but its entire body had been infected with sonnetrappe flowers. Roots filled the whole of its skin and muscle, audibly twisting tight as it bent its arms and legs. The sick sweet scent grew stronger, bolstered by the numerous blossoms open on its body.

The creature rounded the corner and saw them, bellowing once as it stomped closer. It had to stomp because each step was torture. As it put its foot on the floor, roots twisted between it and the carpet, and to walk, it had to rip itself free, leaving pieces of flesh or tearing away chunks of cloth and wood. It dripped blood, gore, and green ichor.

"Better kill it before it gets close," Leon said.

Dante's answer was a rapid blast of gunfire aimed at the monster's chest. Bits and pieces splattered away so that the creature couldn't walk any further against the onslaught, but the roots were too tightly meshed with its organs and bones. When Dante paused, the roots formed up inside the bullet wounds, keeping the body from falling apart. The only improvement was that the roots in its feet had firmly dug into the floor, locking it in place, and as it stumbled and put its hands on the wall, its upper body became rooted to the walls as well.

"Shit," Dante grumbled, annoyed that it won't fall over and die. "At least it should burn up when I set this place on--"

Three clear shots followed in rapid order, each of them slamming into the tangled roots of the creature's head. The first one blasted the roots back, the second one exploded the zombie's head, a messy lump of root-tangled brain matter, and the third one destroyed the rest of its face and skull. There was nothing left for the roots to take over, and the body slumped down, held in place as a bridge for the flowers but no longer tearing the house apart.

Dante gave Leon a look, but his cousin just smiled.

"What?" Leon asked. "I've dealt with these things before."

How could he stand there smiling as the manor shook and the vines finally swept into the room, covering the walls like green veins? Did Leon mean that he could find a way to escape even if Dante wasn't there? How did a fragile human manage to stand there with his heart barely pounding any louder?

It made Dante question his earlier showboating with the mutated governor. Did Leon need him at all?

"Whatever."

Putting his arm around Leon's waist, Dante raised his hand and sent multiple blasts of fire through the ceiling. As burning wood and plaster rained down around them, he leaped up and landed on the roof. He had to fight to keep his balance as the manor started to buckle.

A faint noise tugged at Dante's attention. Leon couldn't hear it over the flames, but the sound of whirring blades made Dante peer into the distance. From this range, their lights looked like stars, but he made out the shapes of black helicopters coming towards them with missiles loaded. He wondered if those missiles were for this manor or the entire city.

"Now what?" Dante asked, yelling over the sound of wood cracking. "That weed's just gonna keep growing until it eats everyone."

"Can you burn it down?" Leon yelled back. "All of it?"

"Not without taking most of this block with it," Dante said.

"Do it," Leon said. "It's either that or a nuke."

Nodding once, Dante set Leon down and stood over the gaping hole he'd just made. Charging up his attack, he let the fires gather around his hands until his coat started to smolder from the heat. Leon backed away, then sat down hard as the roof shook him off his feet.

An explosion--a flash of white light and a blast of fire and heat that dove straight to the basement, billowing back up through the bottom floors and up to the roof. The windows exploded as smoke rushed out in thick waves. Dante poured more power into the burst until the last second, then swooped over Leon and scooped him up, running off the roof and flying frantically through the smoke. He heard the helicopters veer away from the conflagration and then--

The manor started to collapse on itself. Bright orange flame erupted in tall pillars from the building, clinging to the thick webwork of roots that wailed as steam burst out of its skin. The roof caved, then the first floor, and the entire structure fell into its basement. Something deep inside ignited in a powerful blast--natural gas lines, Dante figured. The warm updraft sped him farther from the inferno.

Amidst falling ash and cinders, Dante landed on a rooftop nearly a mile away. The manor glowed an angry red against the black sky, and the wind blew the flames every which way so that the buildings nearby began to burn. To Leon's relief, he heard sirens approaching and saw both fire engines and police cars. If the city was still alive, then maybe they had caught this infection in time. Maybe the city wouldn't be destroyed.

"I need to call Hunnigan," Leon said.

Dante looked at him. The firelight played on Leon's face, throwing shadows and light across his eyes, and when he met his gaze, Dante was struck by how trusting his cousin was. All alone with a devil that could rip him apart, and Leon gazed at him evenly. Leon wouldn't believe that Dante could do anything deliberately cruel.

"Think anything'll survive that fire?" Dante asked.

Leon shook his head. "No way. It's hot enough--everything inside'll crisp. Look, they're not even fighting it."

Watching the firefighters contain the flames to a square block while the police put down the occasional zombie, Dante nodded once. Lessons from Raccoon City had left its mark. The infected area would be burned out, razed to the ground, and anything still twitching would be shot in the head. Brutal but better than a radioactive crater.

"So," Dante continued. "If you didn't have me there with you, you wouldn't have gotten out?"

Leon sighed in annoyance. "No, you saved my life. Thanks. That does not mean I owe you a kiss."

Grinning, Dante laughed once. "We'll argue about that later. What I meant was would your owners be all that suspicious if you disappeared?"

Opening his mouth to say that they weren't his owners, Leon stopped himself and thought. The manor punctuated Dante's thought as it collapsed again, a blanket of flame with a terrible whoosh of heat. The scent of burning smoke and grass carried on the air. Nothing would survive that. And the government had no idea about Dante.

"It's...it's too risky," Leon murmured. "If they even think I'm not burned up, they'll kill Sherry."

"Sherry?"

"A little girl," Leon said. "Well, not all that little. She was infected with the G virus, but she didn't turn. She's normal, and they wanted to dissect her, but they said they wouldn't kill her--"

"--if you worked for them," Dante finished for him. "I get it."

"I have to call Hunnigan," Leon said again. "There's no choice. If they think I'm off the grid at all, they'll kill her just to prove the point. I have to call her now."

Dante sighed. Either Leon would forgive him and realize this was the best course of action, or else he'd never talk to Dante again. If Lady or Trish had been there and not lounging on whatever rooftop or late restaurant they'd ended up in, they'd both scold him and say he never thought things through. But this decision felt right.

"You do have a choice," Dante said. "You can die."

With wide, angry eyes, Leon tried to back away, confusion warring with the shock of being threatened, but Dante's grip felt like steel. A second later, Dante landed a quick, dull knock to the back of Leon's head.

As if he had flipped a switch, Leon slumped against Dante's arm.


	3. Chapter 3

As he sank, Leon's grip loosened and his gun slipped from his hand. Dante caught it and tucked it into Leon's holster, then picked up his cousin, easing Leon's head onto his shoulder.

He took a moment to listen closely, making sure that Leon was breathing easy. He would ply him with a little blood when he woke up to take the edge off his headache, and then he would convince Leon that it was for the best. Probably between Leon's bullets. He could even offer to ask Lady to investigate and make sure the government thought he was dead, although it would cost him another year's worth of pay.

Holding Leon close, he stepped off the roof and flew low, avoiding helicopters and tv news vans along the way. He ducked streetlamps and veered away from the well lit avenues, flying by moonlight, the glare of the city and the neon bar signs in the windows. A few zombies stumbled far beneath him, followed by the pops of gunfire. The police were already mopping this area up.

He landed in front of his shop under the familiar red of his neon sign. The doors still lay smashed on the sidewalk, but the doorway had been boarded up haphazardly so that he could see between the wooden slats. Trish and Lady sat comfortably inside, chatting on the couch as if they'd been there for hours. Dante raised an eyebrow. Lady wore a terrycloth robe and slippers, but Trish had opted to lounge in front of her wearing a single small towel around her body. He was reminded of the day she threw a motorcycle at him. His sidekick was a lot of things, but not subtle.

"Knock knock," Dante called out. "How am I supposed to get in?"

Smiling, Trish got up and walked over, grabbed two of the boards and yanked them free. The opening wasn't wide, but it was enough for Dante to step through. Once he was in, Trish put the boards back in place, slamming the heel of her hand against the nails to drive them into the wall.

"Comfy?" he asked, nodding at her towel.

"I had to throw Lady in the shower," Trish explained. "We killed a bunch of zombies covered in flowers, and I was afraid some might've got on her."

"And you just had to make sure she was clean?" he asked.

She just grinned.

Lady stood and gave Leon a once-over, noticing the bump on the back of his head.

"Is he okay?"

"He's fine," Dante said, laying him on the couch. "Had to knock him out, but it was just a love tap."

"'A love tap'," she echoed. Seeing that he was serious, she sighed in exasperation and went to the kitchen, fetching one of the ice packs she kept in the freezer and wrapping it in a dish towel. Some of her irritation faded as she watched him adjust Leon, positioning his head on the cushion and draping the cover over his body.

"At least you brought him back in one piece," she said, and gently held the pack to Leon's head. "Good thing I have normal first aid kits here."

"As long as you don't charge for 'em," he warned her. "He's not getting any more paychecks for awhile."

"What?" Lady asked. "He left the government? But I thought..."

"They threatened to kill him and someone he's protecting," Dante said. "So as far as they know, Leon Kennedy died in the fire."

Lady gave him a look. "And did Leon agree to this, or is that why you had to bonk him on the head?"

"He was being stubborn," Dante said. "He'll probably be pissed and worried for the next week or two. Don't let him use the phone."

"Dante..." Lady sighed.

"Hey, it was his best shot at getting away from them," Dante said. "They were blackmailing him, saying they'd kill a little kid he was protecting. If they think he died in the fire, they're both free and clear."

"Except he can't ever be seen again," Lady said. She pressed her hand to her head as if she had a headache. "Dammit. He can't go back to wherever he was before. Where's he gonna stay?"

"With me, of course," Dante grinned. "He can share my bed."

"I'm sure that'll go over well with him," Lady drawled.

As they bickered, Trish added a few more boards to the doorway. A minor spell sealed the open spaces against  spirits and drafts, and she yawned as she turned off the ceiling fan to the relief of the evil doll still stuck on one of the fan blades. The black and white television flickered unsteadily, casting shadows around the room as the news anchor spoke.

"--traced back the infection to its starting point, the governor's manor, now engulfed in flames. Again, martial law has been declared until the contagion is stopped. Everyone is encouraged to seal their homes and shoot any bitten relatives in the head. Authorities remind us that it was an infected grandmother in her nineties that caused the most recent outbreak in Wichita--"

Trish shrugged and turned the tv down low.

"Same ol', same ol'," she said. "At least we won't get bombed."

"Since I've already showered," Lady said, "I'm going to bed. Is the guest room clean?"

"Just sweep it for killer dolls," Dante said helpfully.

"Killer dolls?" Lady echoed.

Trish pointed up, and Lady followed her hand up to the fan where the porcelain doll continued to turn slowly. The doll noticed her look and hastily pulled her ruffled dress down for modesty, waving her knife and then throwing both tiny hands around the fan's rod so she wouldn't fall. Her squeak as she almost lost her balance was less than threatening.

"A killer doll," Lady nodded. "And those are in the guest room?"

"Actually, I think we got 'em all except for that one," Trish said, throwing her arm around Lady's shoulders. "But I'll go help you make sure. Gotta check in the closet, under the bed, between the sheets..."

"So subtle," Lady grumbled, but she didn't argue as Trish escorted her up the stairs. The door audibly closed behind them, clicking shut, and then came the sounds of bedcovers rustling, a startled cry and smashed porcelain.

The shout wasn't too loud, but Leon turned his head, groaning softly as his eyes opened. He blinked a few times, focused on Dante, and realized where he was. With growing horror, he turned and looked at the television and the burning manor and the time stamp in the corner.

"Oh God," he breathed. "I'm late!"

"Yeah," Dante said. "Really late."

Dante watched Leon sit up too fast, but instead of falling over as expected, Leon wobbled to his feet with his hand on his head, staggering like a sleepwalker to the desk. He grabbed the old rotary phone, leaning against the desk to steady himself, and started to dial.

"Sorry, Leon," Dante said, and he reached around him and held down the switch, cutting off the dial tone. "But it's for your own good."

"'My own good'?"

Leon froze, then slowly turned his head and stared at Dante with a semi-credulous expression. His fist clenched at his side and shook. His knuckles turned white around the receiver. Dante held his breath.

"My own good?"

Tightly controlled, Leon's voice promised terrible violence. A storm was on its way, and Dante relaxed as much as he could to soften the blow. Unfortunately, relaxing meant that he smiled, and that tipped Leon over the edge.

"You think this is funny, you self-righteous prick!" Leon shouted, landing a hard right hook on Dante's cheek. "Sherry's gonna die and all you care about is your own sick gratification!"

Dante swayed back to cushion the blow to Leon's fist, and he turned slightly for the next punch. Did Leon even feel how hard a half-devil's skin was? As woozy as he was from the blow to the head, Leon might not have noticed the hard blows to his knuckles. The third punch was faster as Leon regained his balance, and Dante couldn't take the risk.

"Now look," Dante said, catching Leon's wrist before he could land the punch. "This isn't just 'cause I like feisty blondes. You need help--"

"Don't pretend you care!" Leon threw another punch, growling in frustration as Dante caught his other wrist. "Let me go!"

"Not if you're gonna keep trying to hurt yourself," Dante snapped. "You can't hurt me--"

"Wanna bet?" Wrenching free, Leon had to use all his focus to spin and smash his boot into Dante's face.

Ow. Dante blinked, shaking his head once. He'd actually felt that. Not as hard as one of Lady's missiles, but it came close. He was getting a first hand demonstration of how Leon had survived all those years by himself.

"Not bad," he smiled around a bleeding lip. "Do people's heads explode when you do that?"

"People," Leon muttered. "Zombie dogs, monsters, they all usually go pop."

His tone clearly said he was annoyed that Dante hadn't.

"Nice legs, too," Dante added. "We'll put those to use later. Can you do a splits?"

"Son of a...a..." Leon blinked hard, staggered back a step, and put his hands on his head as if holding in his brain. He groaned and one knee buckled under him.

"Whoa!" Dante reached out and caught him, putting Leon's arm over his shoulders. "Tell you what. You can beat me up when you're not falling over."

"Damn straight," Leon growled, scraping his feet along the floor to the couch. "Still got my knife..."

"Still got your guns," Dante pointed out. "But I've always liked knives. They don't keep going through me the way swords do."

"...what?" Leon gave him an incredulous look, trying to make that sound logical. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll find out later," Dante said. "Seems like everyone does. Except Lady, but she got me with a missile. Twice."

"Shut up," Leon murmured. "You're making it hurt worse."

"Sorry."

Dante got him back onto the couch and helped him lie down, letting go when Leon slapped his hands away. But when Leon shivered and started to curl up, Dante ignored his dirty look and pulled off his coat, draping the heavy leather on top of Leon. He frowned as Leon started to protest.

"Don't argue," Dante said. "You said you won't use my bed and I don't have a front door anymore. It ain't gonna get any warmer tonight."

Leon glared at him, then turned on his side, flinging one arm over his eyes. He exhaled, dragged in a ragged breath, let it out shakily.

"They'll kill her," Leon whispered. "They'll kill her."

"Not if they think you're dead," Dante said. "And face it, you would've been if it wasn't for me. When they find a few bodies, if they find anything at all, there's no way they'll be able to tell who's who. Leon S. Kennedy dies doing his job."

"They'll kill her anyways," Leon muttered. "If they haven't already."

"When was the last time you saw her?" Dante asked.

"Six years ago."

Dante stared at him. "Wait. What?"

Leon didn't answer. Dante leaned over him, trying to see his eyes.

"Then they let you call her, right? Write letters? Send telegraphs? Smoke signals?"

Leon glanced sideways at him. "Shut up."

"Oh my God." Dante stood up and walked several paces, paused to look back at Leon, then walked around again. "No way. For real? Are you serious? You're really that gullible?"

Leon looked at him for a moment longer, then shut his eyes tight and turned his face to the pillow.

"They wouldn't let me," he mumbled. "I tried. They said they couldn't risk it."

Dante sighed in annoyance, but he couldn't get angry with his cousin. Even when he knew the government was blackmailing him over the life of a little girl, Leon was too trusting. Worse, Dante didn't want to rub Leon's nose in it. Either Sherry had been dead for a long time or else the government had dumped her and continued committing cheerful extortion. He wondered if they'd even docked Leon's pay to fund her fake college tuition.

"I'll ask Lady to look for any information on her," Dante said finally. "It won't be cheap, but at least you'll know."

Leon didn't respond. Dante grumbled to himself, but he didn't push. He got up and checked the boards in the door again to make sure they wouldn't break or come off if a corpse blundered into them, then plopped down behind his desk again, propping his boots up on top of the phone. Leon wouldn't make any phone calls while he was asleep. He crossed his arms, let his head fall on his chest, and closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, the sun was past noon and on its way below the city skyline. Dante blinked at the hot glare in his eyes and shielded his face with his hand. On the couch he spotted Leon sitting up and watching tv. In the afternoon light, his cousin's hair looked like molten gold.

"Should I call for pizza?" Dante asked.

Leon shrugged. "They won't come. All the pizza guys got eaten last night."

"Mm." Dante sat quietly and listened. The only sound came from the low television volume, the frustrated doll on the fan, and the occasional pop of gunfire somewhere in the distance. "Where's Trish and Lady?"

"Out," Leon said. He glanced at Dante and sighed in annoyance. "Lady said she'd look up what she could on Sherry, and Trish went with her."

"Ouch," Dante said. "That's gonna cost. She doesn't work cheap."

"She said she'd do it for half off," Leon said. "Although I think she meant that she'd charge you the other half."

"Typical," Dante said. "Which means I gotta work. Got a couple leads I wasn't following up on, but..."

He watched Leon stare at the television. His cousin didn't seem to be watching the news. There was no change in his expression as it switched from commercials to live scenes of the city as helicopters filmed police shooting zombies. Leon stared at something beyond the tv screen, his mouth set but uneasy.

"She'll find out what happened to Sherry," Dante offered. "Lady's expensive, but you get what you pay for."

Leon shook his head. "It's not that. You were right."

Dante wanted to smile and say he was always right, but it didn't fit the mood. "Right about what?"

"The governor's bodyguard Leon S. Kennedy died bravely, igniting the broken gas main in the basement to keep the monsters inside from getting out." Leon leaned back on the couch and stared at the doll still going around on the fan. "I'm getting a hero's burial on Monday."

Mood be damned. Dante grinned.

"Great! No more blackmail."

"Not great," Leon said. "I can't show my face anywhere. I can't get to my bank account, not that there was much in there. I can't even get another change of clothes."

"Not that you need 'em," Dante said with a leer, but Leon didn't hear him.

"How'm I gonna get more ammo?" Leon sighed. "I'm down to my last clip and..."

As Leon fell silent, Dante openly watched him. He'd thought Leon would be happy to get away from his blackmailers, at least once he realized that he was safe, but Leon looked worse than he did the night before. Pensive and withdrawn, Leon looked like he was lost instead of escaped.

So that was why Lady had given him that look. Dante grumbled. He hated it when she was right. He should have waited until he knew more about this Sherry girl, had found out if she was alive or dead and if she could be spirited away. He should have--

No. Dante frowned. No, Leon had nearly died, and for what? Being unconscious and not calling in immediately like a good little boy scout. He was treated like shit by people who didn't give a damn about him. Screw what Lady and Leon both thought.

He opened his desk drawer and pulled out the money box. It usually didn't have much in it, but he still had leftover from the demonic eel job. He grabbed a roll of twenties and stood, slamming his boots on the ground before he forced himself to tread softly. It wasn't Leon's fault that he was too blonde to say thanks for rescuing me.

Dante dropped the wad of bills beside Leon and flopped heavily on the couch with him.

"I'm not a kept man," Leon ground out through his clenched jaw.

"Good, 'cause I've never paid for it," Dante said. "That's your cut of the job."

"What?"

At least Leon looked at him this time, an improvement from being deliberately ignored.

"I know you're not familiar with working commissions," Dante said. "We get a call, we kill the demon, we get paid. That simple."

"Those weren't demons," Leon argued.

Dante rolled his eyes and sighed. Why did Leon have to make everything so damn hard? He'd never met anyone before who'd argue against taking money. He wondered if Leon had a suicide wish and then kept surviving just to be contrary.

"No, but Lady'll get something off it anyway. She's got contacts I don't, and the outbreak lasted long enough to get some decent cash offered up to kill whatever was inside the governor's place." He nodded at the money. "Hell, that's probably gonna be an advance on what we really get."

Dante watched the little war go on inside Leon's head. Leon didn't want to take Dante's money, but he was penniless with no ammo, clothes or lodging. He didn't have a home or family to go back to, and he didn't have many options.

"This doesn't have any strings attached?" Leon finally asked, looking from the twenties to Dante.

"No strings," Dante assured him, satisfied as Leon picked them up. "But I could use another partner."

"I thought Trish was your partner," Leon said.

"She's more like a sidekick," Dante said, chuckling. "Hell, just ask her. Sometimes I think she's here just 'cause she has more fun."

"No, I mean..." Leon crossed his fingers. "I mean, I thought she was your partner. Like, close partners."

"Huh?" Dante frowned, looking at his hand, then laughed out loud as he understood. "What? No no. You got it all wrong. We just work together. Besides, haven't you noticed her and Lady?"

Leon tilted his head. "Yeah, they work real well together."

"Um, not quite what I meant," Dante said, but he waved his hand dismissively. "Nevermind. It doesn't matter. Trust me, we're not lovers."

"Why not? You always jumped into bed no problem."

"I've had a few meaningless flings," he admitted slowly. "Life gets kind of lonely when you're a half demon."

Nodding once, Leon's expression hardened and he looked back at the tv as if he'd had a question answered. Having his sex life judged and dismissed made Dante narrow his eyes, annoyed by what Leon was implying.

"You're the only one I trusted with my back, though." Dante noted how Leon tensed but didn't turn, and he kept going. "You wanted a party to celebrate your new job, and I came. You wanted to drink and have fun, and I held your hair when you threw up and I got you to bed."

He gave Leon a hard look. "I shared my blood with you. How many people you think I've done that for?"

"Just me?" Leon asked.

"Just you," Dante nodded. "I don't want you working for trash that'll throw you away the moment they can't control you. You can stay here as long as you need to get established somewhere safe. I'd like it if you worked here with me."

Leon snorted in disbelief. "As if. You're just interested in getting me into bed."

"That's not the only reason," Dante protested.

"I'm human," Leon said. "I can't fly, I can't leap off of tall buildings, I can't fire endless rounds out of my gun--"

"You shoot more accurately than I do," Dante pointed out. "And you're cooler under fire. Besides, Lady's just a human and she keeps up with me and Trish."

"She's human?" Leon asked in surprise.

"Sometimes I wonder," Dante muttered. "She was falling off a tower when we first met. Put two missiles in my face when I caught her."

"Sounds like she knew you already," Leon said, but a hint of a smile played on his lips. His good humor returning, he stared at the floor, then glanced sideways at Dante. "No strings attached?"

"Well, you'll have to use the couch," Dante said. "There's only one bed, and I don't think you're willing to share just yet."

"Not...yet," Leon said. "Not yet. I need to get this settled in my head first."

"But soon?" Dante asked hopefully, sitting up a little.

Leon smiled more in exasperation than fondness, but his reply was cut off as someone clambered through the window.

"'Soon' what?" Trish asked, carrying a file folder in one hand.

"Bad news, Trish," Dante said, folding his hands behind his head and leaning back. "Our pay is getting cut by third."

"Did you go gambling again?" she groaned. "Hells, I was only out an hour or--"

She stopped when she saw Dante's broad smile and Leon's irritated look. Behind her sunglasses, her eyes widened in delight.

"He agreed?"

"Completely," Dante said, smoothly glossing over Leon's look. "No strings attached."

"Dante..." Leon started.

"Oh, here," Trish said, tossing the folder onto Leon's lap. "Lady got that for you. She's still making sure they think you're dead, but here's what she has on that girl you knew."

Leon opened up the folder, carefully scanning the print outs of reports and memos, all lacking the Top Secret classification across the page. These were unauthorized copies. Sherry Birkin, a few photographs and a couple of government addresses, some report cards--Sherry was great in science but lousy at English--and then nothing. There was a memo about losing contact and sending a field agent out for information, but the reports stopped there.

"They lost her," he murmured. "Or else she got away. But there's no way to be sure."

"Lady'll find out," Trish said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Won't be cheap, but give her time."

"Sure," Leon said.

He lightly touched the latest photo, Sherry in high school in a white dress with a violin case on her shoulder. She looked happy enough, chatting with a group of girls around her as they walked to class. The gold locket still hung around her neck, and the sleeves of Claire's jacket were tied loosely around her waist.

"So Leon S. Kennedy is dead," Dante said, leaning back again. "You gonna pick out a new name?"

"Nah," Leon said, shaking his head. "Can't change my face. Besides, it doesn't look like you two need last names either."

Trish chuckled. "True enough." She took her customary seat on the edge of the desk and smiled. "You'll be riding behind Dante, right?"

"Um..." Leon glanced at Dante who smirked. "I don't suppose I could get my own bike? How much do we get paid usually? Heck, how do you get jobs?"

The phone rang. Winking once at Leon, Trish picked up and crossed one leg over the other.

"Hello, Devil May Cry, new and improved."


	4. Chapter 4

Clad only in one of Dante's black shirts, Leon yawned and came down the stairs, certain that there wouldn't be any customers below. There hadn't been any for the last two days--Trish had told him that there may not be any for weeks at a time, and she was away with Lady more often than not now. Even if someone had been downstairs, he didn't have to worry. Swordplay made Dante naturally broader in the shoulders, so his shirt covered Leon almost like a tunic. Leon ignored Dante's snicker as he walked by into the kitchen. Rotten devil loved needling him about those extra damn four inches he had on Leon.

Pizza boxes, empty beer cans, paper ice cream cups with the spoons still in them... Leon grimaced as he stacked everything in the overflowing trashcan, pushing the mess down until it wasn't tumbling out anymore. He sighed as he looked at the floor. It hadn't been this dirty before, had it? The tiles had yellowed and strange blotches turned the edges dark. Dried beer? Splatters of vanilla ice cream? Whatever it was, it looked like a handful of ants had spotted it and started moving in lazy circles around them.

"That's it," he muttered, "this place has got to be cleaned up."

Napping at the desk, Dante barely moved, tilting his head as he leaned dangerously back in his chair. "Can't afford it."

"Can't afford a mop and a bucket?" Leon scoffed. "Some life of luxury you brought me into."

"Hey, you got a life of freedom and adventure," Dante grinned. "S'lot better than a government check."

Leon snorted and looked in the fridge. Two strawberry wine coolers--Trish would kill him if he took one. Three beer bottles--two of them empty. He sighed and popped the cap on the last one, taking a long drink. At least it was cold and relatively clean, save for some bits of dirt around the bottom. The rest of the fridge had grime along the edges and red stains where strawberry sundaes had melted before Dante could get to them.

"Freedom and adventure," Leon muttered. "Right. And all the grime I could ever want."

"You wanna clean the place?" Dante said, yawning and throwing his arm over his eyes. "Feel free."

That called for another drink. Leon sighed and closed the door.

"I would," he said, "if there was any soap. Detergent. Bleach. Anything." He waved his hand at the peeling plaster and warped wooden walls. "A broom? Mop? Do you even have a mop?"

Dante frowned. "No mop."

Although Dante said that with a strange tone, Leon decided to let it lie. He had other problems, namely finding a way to clean up Devil May Cry without a dime. The floorboards creaked underfoot as he crossed the main room, glancing up at the murderous porcelain doll still hanging onto the ceiling fan. He'd figured she would eventually give up trying to find a safe way down and simply suicide-leap on one of them, but so far she was content to ride in circles with her dress modestly tugged to her ankles.

While he was watching her, his foot caught on a loose board and he stumbled, twisting sideways to keep his balance. Whatever had caught his shoe refused to let go, however, and he had to fall to one knee to keep from smashing his head on the floor, steadying himself with his free hand.

"If you spilled the last beer," Dante murmured, "I don't think I could forgive you."

"It's fine," Leon muttered. "So am I, thanks for asking."

As Leon started to get back up, however, he accidentally bent the board a few inches back. Something glimmered in the darkness under the floor, and out of curiosity, he carefully reached in and felt his hand slide around something cool, pulling it into the light. A lump of black grime, but it shone gold off the edge. It crumbled under his fingers, revealing an ornate brooch with rubies encrusted in a floral pattern. He turned it over. The pin had broken off, and on the back, the stain of soot and rust made the inscription impossible to read.

"Heavy enough to be real," Leon said to himself. "Hey, did you know about this?"

Dante stared at him with wide eyes, then sighed and stared at the ceiling.

"Nope," Dante muttered. "At least Lady didn't find it."

Refusing to take the bike, Leon waited the extra moment it took Dante to sling on his coat and then started out the door, heading down the sidewalk. The brooch lay securely in his pocket, although he kept his hand on it just in case. His pants were singed and torn along the edges and threadbare in spots, and he didn't want the brooch to fall out.

"I don't believe it," Dante huffed.

Leon smiled. "Who would've thought you had a little treasure under your house?"

"Not my bookie, that's for sure," Dante sighed. "Okay, then, the closest pawnshop is down the street, but Rodile knows me. He'll give us a better price."

"Pawn shop?" Leon echoed. "Huh?"

"Rodile's place," Dante said. "I take all my stuff to his shop, Rodile's Fine Items and Curiosities, a few blocks down."

"Oh, we won't need a pawn shop," Leon said. "We're going to the grocery store."

"Huh?" Dante stopped in his tracks. "Wait, wait. Leon, I don't know how the government does things, but you can't pay for stuff with gold out here. Trust me, I tried."

"I know," Leon sighed, annoyed that Dante thought he had to tell him. "Don't worry. We'll run into him in a moment."

"...what?" Dante had to pause and turn that over in his mind. "Run into who? Someone still knows you're alive?"

Not stopping, Leon ignored him, which was starting to turn annoying in itself. Dante grumbled and reminded himself that Leon could kick his legs really high. And he could actually look at Dante's devil form without flinching--that was nice, too.

"What are you buyin'?"

Dante frowned. That faint voice sounded more suspicious than many devils he'd taken care of. He caught up with Leon, who gave him a cursory glance before shaking his head at the man standing just inside the alley.

"What are you sellin'?"

Snorting, Dante leaned against the brick wall and watched him take out the brooch. A moment later the man in the green coat handed over a wad of bills that made Dante look around to make sure no one spotted it. Then Leon pocketed it and was walking again, and Dante glared at the stranger just to make sure the man wouldn't slip a knife in Leon's back and take back the cash. Dante had to walk backwards for a few steps, not wanting to take his eyes off the man. Something about his hidden face and hunched body made his instincts scream that it was a minor demon.

"Okay, what the hell was all that?" Dante snapped when he finally caught up to Leon, grabbing his arm to make him stop. "Who was that guy?"

"I don't know," Leon said shrugged. "He's just always there when I need to sell something quick. Seven hundred should tide us over for awhile, right?"

A little part of Dante was relieved that Leon said "us," but the other part of his mind went round in circles trying to understand how Leon could have his own personal traveling pawn shop.

"That's...wait, there's no way he's human," Dante said.

"I wouldn't be surprised," Leon said. "But then who is? Here, hold onto this. Your pockets aren't about to tear off."

Dante sighed and stuffed the money into a deep pocket. "Leon...don't flash that kind of money around, will ya? You'll draw a lot of attention that way."

Smiling, Leon waved his hand idly. "I'm not worried. I have a devil watching my back."

"I'm starting to feel used," Dante grumbled, wondering if Leon would begrudge a strawberry sundae on the way back.

The S Mart wasn't more than a few blocks, although Leon felt more than a little exposed in the open street. There weren't many people out, but even those handful might recognize him as Leon S. Kennedy, the hero that had valiantly sacrificed himself to save the town. His face had been plastered everywhere, and he didn't even have a baseball cap or sunglasses to disguise himself.

The grocery store's sign flickered unsteadily and the S had gone crooked, and the bars on the windows had rust along the corners. Without breaking stride, Leon scanned the storefront for cameras and spotted three of them constantly sweeping the parking lot and the front door. He relaxed and lifted his head a little. The cameras were fakes, designed solely to make the customers feel better.

Assured that nothing was recording him, he walked inside and started looking around, not noticing the looks his singed clothing earned. Ragged clothing was one thing, but half-burned? The lone cashier in the corner watched him with wide eyes, then spotted the glare the tall man in the red coat was giving her and quickly buried herself back in her magazine. As they drifted through the store, however, she eyed them in the security mirrors around the store.

Leon hadn't been inside a grocery store of any sort in a long time, and the long rows of colorful containers dazzled him for a moment.

"Where are the cleaning things?" he asked aloud.

"I dunno," Dante shrugged. "I always just head to the freezer. That's where the pizza and ice cream is."

"Dante, did you ever grow up?" Leon asked, then noticed that his boyfriend was looking at a comic on the rack, the Konstant Kid fighting Particle Child. "I guess not."

"Hey, I don't get to buy these that often," Dante snapped. "Besides, I wasn't the one watching cartoons this morning."

"You tv doesn't get cable news," Leon grumbled and made his way into the store. "Cleaning supplies, cleaning supplies...here we go...Tile Polish, Spurt & Shine. That looks good. Here, hold this-"

Dante blinked and had to move in a blur, catching the bottle haphazardly tossed at him. He caught two sponges, a scrub brush, another bottle and a box of Bubble Bust detergent before he stopped following.

"Hey, wait up, I'm gonna-" He stopped as a bottle of dish soap smacked him between the eyes and dropped neatly in his arms. "I'm gonna get a cart."

"Huh? Okay, I'll be around here," Leon said, waving vaguely at him and picking up the lemon scent and lavender scent air fresheners, trying them both. "Maybe a potpourri...?"

Trish and Lady were going to laugh at him, Dante just knew it. He went back to the front, dropping the stuff inside the cart and tugging it free. He wheeled it around, leaning on it as he made his way around a tall display of stacked Kitty-Purr Purr Treats. One foot braced on the bottom cart rack, he pushed his way like a skateboard, pushing harder and harder to pick up speed. As he came to the cleaning aisle, his mouth set in a firm line and he pushed as hard as he could, leaning forward into the rush.

Leon looked up and stepped close to the shelves in one move. A second later, Dante sped by with flapping coattails, cart on two wheels and leaving thin black streaks on the floor. Leon sighed and watched him plow into the freezer with an explosion of styrofoam and cellophane.

"Honestly," Leon sighed, sidestepping the bloody splattered packages as he reached one hand to Dante, who lay on top of the twisted cart, one wheel spinning by his head. "It's like everytime we go out, you come home covered in blood."

"S'why my coat's waterproof," Dante said, taking Leon's hand and standing up. He dusted himself off and pulled the cart out of the freezer, holding the twisted wreckage up for inspection.

Leon winced. "Damn, we're gonna have to pay for that."

"Nah." Dante tugged two ends of the cart out until it no longer looked pinched in, then straightened out the edges as best he could. When he set it down, it wobbled back and forth on two uneven wheels, but he smashed his foot down on the rack until a third wheel touched the floor. "There we go. I fixed it."

Leon eyed the cart warily. It looked like a piece of paper that had been crumpled and then flattened out again, and the handle's broken plastic came off in crumbly pieces. He glanced at Dante, who looked so satisfied that he didn't have the heart to fault his work, sighing as Dante tossed everything back into the cart.

"Sure," he asked, taking a step back as Dante pushed the cart a few feet. It squeaked, but it rolled. "Great. Let's go to the meds aisle. You're giving me one hell of a headache."

Turning to go, Leon felt Dante grab his arm and pull him back against his chest. He looked around to see if anyone was watching, oblivious as the clerk hid behind her magazine again, then tried to wriggle out from under Dante's arm.

"Hey," Leon snapped, "let me-"

"Uh-uh," Dante said, bending to murmur in his ear. "No aspirin for you. Remember?"

The tickling breath made Leon tilt his head and squirm downwards, with Dante all but thrusting against his jeans as he followed his movements.

"I'm not a vampire," Leon grumbled. "And we're in public. And I'm not as shameless as you are."

"Yet," Dante chuckled. "Give me time."

Bringing his free hand up to his face, Dante bit at his finger, cutting himself on one sharp incisor. When he tasted blood, he covered Leon's mouth with his glove and curled his fingertip, pressing against Leon's lips until he finally gave in. The skin under his hand flushed warm.

"I can feel you blushing," Dante snickered, nuzzling his ear.

Leon narrowed his eyes and mumbled something suspiciously like "fuck you" around his hand, but he didn't stop sucking down drop after drop.

When he felt Dante starting to grind in earnest, however, Leon bit down as hard as he could.

"Ow!"

Dante pulled free and stumbled backwards, holding his hand protectively. He glared at Leon, irritated by the smug tilt of his head.

"Careful," Dante growled affectionately, letting a smile slowly creep up on his face. "I can bite, too."

"I know," Leon said as he backed away. "Bring the cart. I saw some clothes in the corner."

"Aw man..." Dante pushed the cart along, hefting one corner so it didn't squeak as much. "Clothes from a supermarket?"

"I haven't been anyplace else," Leon said. "And I'd like to wear something other than your shirts."

"Don't have to on my account," Dante said.

Ignoring him, Leon stood at the row of clothing next to the diapers. Most of the items were kid's outfits, but there were several shirts and--more importantly to him--some jeans with dust on the hangers. He sighed when he looked at the labels. They were each a size too big, but he took them anyway, along with two plain blue shirts and a little girl's dress so small that he didn't think any kid could fit into it.

"No underroos?" Dante asked, motioning at the kid's underwear with a Superman logo.

"I've always been more of a Batman guy," Leon said. "Besides, I'll just keep borrowing your boxers."

Dante's leer was received with a dismissive roll of the eyes and a quick turn to the refrigerated aisle. Frozen strawberries, strawberry ice cream, vanilla ice cream-he tossed it all in the cart and pretended not to notice as Dante tossed in two tubs of whipped cream as he walked by.

As they went past the the rest of the frozen aisle, Leon snagged bags of meat and vegetables, ignoring Dante's theatrical groans of disgust as he grabbed stir-fry and broccoli. Then Leon took them past the last aisle to the liquor. A pack of the wine coolers that Trish liked, three cases of beer, and a bottle of decent brandy that he couldn't help a gasp of pleasure at seeing.

Finally Leon spotted a row of instant coffees for sale and grabbed two, tossing in an extra pack of sugar and cream beside them. He looked up and realized Dante had disappeared. When he glanced around, scanning the security mirrors to find him, he first spotted the cashier ducking behind her magazine again, then saw Dante coming toward him with an armful of vanilla wafers that he tossed into the cart.

"You're gonna get too big to fight demons," Leon said.

"Gotta keep my blood sweet," Dante said, "or else my boyfriend might not like it anymore. Whoa, I didn't know you like brandy."

"Yeah," Leon said, pushing the cart again. "I just don't get it that often, that's all."

"I can imagine," Dante said. "That stuff ain't cheap."

When they reached the cashier, Dante stood waiting until he noticed Leon's look, and with a surprised noise started to put the groceries on the conveyer belt. Leon half-smiled and watched her ring it all up and bag it, not batting an eye when she gave the dress a look, and he didn't protest when an extra hundred dollars was added. She eyed him, half expecting him to balk, then watched with a little surprise as he easily slid out enough cash from his wallet.

"Sorry about my friend here," he said. "He's out on a daypass, and...well, he's pretty hard on equipment sometimes."

She shook her head. "S'awright. Long as my boss doesn't yell about losing a cart, I don't care. You watch out for your little mental friend, hear?"

"Right," Leon said, glancing at Dante. His boyfriend had all the groceries hanging from one arm and was crouched in front of the twenty five cent candy machines, not listening to them at all. "I don't suppose you could...?"

"Change in quarters?" she said, dropping several into his hand.

"Thanks."

As Leon came over, Dante tilted his head just enough to show he was talking to him. "Hey, could I borrow a quarter? They've got those jawbreakers and I can never find the bags for 'em."

"Sure."

Several turns of the knob later, he had a handful of multicolored candies. Dante looked them over.

"Pop me a green one? Those are the best."

Leon wasn't suprised when Dante used the candy offering to catch his fingertip with his teeth, his eyes lighting up as he leaned close.

"If we don't get home soon," Leon warned him, "that ice cream is going to melt."

Dante frowned and let him go. "Spoilsport."

"Now now," Leon said, accompanying him outside. "Behave and I'll make sundaes after I clean."

At his desk, Dante watched as Devil May Cry went from dirty and run-down to just run-down. The kitchen was swept and mopped and the refrigerator was clean with everything neatly stacked inside. The main floor was swept, and the couch cushion covers were scrubbed in the sink, left hanging neatly on two horned devil arms to dry.

Underneath the ceiling fan, Leon held the dress in his hands and looked up. At first Dante thought Leon had some strange urge to dust, but then Leon tossed the dress up to the doll. It landed on her head and she squeaked in surprise, dropping her knife. Leon grabbed it deftly out of the air and went back into the kitchen.

"You got her a dress?" Dante wondered.

"You thought I wanted it?" Leon asked. "I couldn't help it. She keeps tugging on the one she's wearing. This one's bigger."

Long minutes passed. Then Leon came back with two bowls of ice cream and strawberries, with the wafer cookies stuck along the edges. Dante sat bolt upright and dug in, savoring the first bite as Leon pulled up a chair to the desk.

At first they ate in silence. Dante decided he'd call for Chinese take-out later, just to spare Leon having to cook after doing all that, and he wondered if Leon would share some of that brandy afterward. Maybe watch a movie.

"Dante," Leon murmured.

Dante looked up. "Huh?"

Leon paused, idly twirling his spoon. He took a long breath, considering, then gave a little shrug.

"Thanks."

Smiling, Dante leaned forward and kissed the corner of Leon's mouth. He didn't leer or joke or try to force anything, and he held Leon's look for several seconds.

"Only for you," he said after a moment and leaned back.

Leon smiled, then sighed at himself and sat up. He couldn't believe he was practically mooning at Dante, with his hair in his eyes like some love-struck girl and--

He looked at Dante's hand.

His boyfriend had stolen his last vanilla wafer with a large scoop of ice cream hanging off the end. With an unrepentent grin, Dante devoured it in one bite.

"Don't worry," Dante laughed, bringing his finger up to his mouth and biting to draw blood. "You'll get a taste in return. You did say I was giving you a headache after all."

"You always give me a headache," Leon grumbled, but he didn't shy away from the offered droplet on Dante's fingertip. As he licked it away, though, he happened to catch the calculating look on his lover's face.

As much as Dante played around, his devil was anything but stupid. He wondered, as he tasted blood, if Dante was somehow stealing tastes himself and Leon simply hadn't noticed yet.


End file.
